Our Darn Cold Night
by Jeccelo
Summary: A Zutara short. AU. Katara's relationship with Jet is failing. Desperate, she turns to a stranger in the rain who is able to give her the love she needs.


**Our Darn Cold Night**

by Jeccelo

A Zutara AU Short

Based on the song _I'm With You_ by Avril Lavigne

**A/N**: okay, people. You have no idea how excited i was when i got this inspiration. i was watching a Zutara AMV with this song (i'm with you) on YouTube when i had the most BEAUTIFUL scene run through my head. So here it is: i had to sit down and write it immediately so i apologize for any flaws you may find .

Katara is about 18 or 19. Zuko's maybe 19 or 20. (We don't ever really hear their names until the end, so just know that 'she' is Katara and 'he' is Zuko.)

THE AVRIL LAVIGNE SONG IS CRUCIAL TO THIS FIC. This could basically pass a music video!! If you haven't heard the song, you may want to. If you have, listening to it again just to refresh your memory would be wise.

Bleh. I changed the word 'damn' to 'darn' in the title. i'm sorry Avril. i just don't want to be swearing every time i refer to my fic.

This is the only chapter. It's not really a fic, just a long passage. A short story.

p.s. Pleaz don't hate Jet. lol. i love him, i really do. i just needed a "bad guy".

**Disclaimer**: i own nothing

Somewhere through the settling droplets and the steam that fogged the plastic, she could make out failing digital numbers. 

Eleven thirty-six. That made forty-five minutes. 

Time grew and her spirit lessened. While sheets of rain occupied almost every space of the city, she was left in her own bubble. A hole had punctured in the bottom and slowly more and more of her was leaking out into the running ditches. It wouldn't be long before everything that had dragged her here by a waning thread of hope would finally snap and consume her.

_Oh, Jet. Oh, Jet, oh, Jet. Is it so hard to come? Is it so hard to show up?_

She knew he wouldn't come. Even as she'd posed smile after smile under her fingers fixing her hair, after she'd faked hope again and again, she'd known.

_I love you, Katara_. He'd been so beautiful when he'd said it. And still she'd sobbed the whole night long. She'd always been able to see through him, spot every corner where every tiny lie was kept hidden. 

But then it had been like he was deliberately letting her see everything he couldn't and didn't mean. She dreamt not of what he said but of what he felt.

_I love you, Katara, but I can't help you. I can't be there for you. _

_ But you still love me, don't you? Katara?_

An unspoken failure, but that just made it worse.

Why did she cling to him? Why did put herself through his for the same outcome again and again... Was is because he offered her so much? He provided her with the chance to say she loved and was loved. He gave her stature, presence where she lacked it, charm and wit where it failed her. He was the other side of her coin, wasn't he?

_So why can't the two sides meet, Jet? Why can't you come when you say you will?_

She was just a part of the storm; this silent, night-long downpour that outlined her trembling figure in bursting raindrops. That mellow, copper glow from the street lamp across the road... it splashed over her chest, the folds of her sweater, making patches of light along her cheeks and the creases in her jeans.

Forty seven minutes.

Fifty minutes.

_I'll be there, ten fifty. I promise._

_ Just wait for me._

Soon even his voice was washed out, spiraling down a gurgling drain. Gold from the street lamps and windows of houses outlined the curbs: there were four of them, all pointing towards eachother in an intersection. She stood at the edge of the bottom left. The other three just stared at her with accusing eyes, condemning fingers.

_You let him toy you again. You knew he wouldn't come, you knew he didn't even want to come, so you came and waited for him. You're pathetic!_

She could see his face. When she looked out into the darkness that was the neighborhood, it was like staring into the dark masquerade of his eyes. The scene of tomorrow, the confrontation that she would start and always hopelessly lose...

_Oh, Katara, I'm so sorry. I completely forgot. _

_ Could you come help me unload the car?_

Her lips would tremble. She'd set her heart down on the couch and stand up to follow him.

_Okay, Jet._

It was so cold. The rain just smiled wider, wrapping a blanket of ice around her shoulders. She looked down at the tears from the clouds running off the edges of her shoes. The gutter gushed as if powered by a pump. She watched the asphalt glitter as every tiny droplet caught the glow of the lamp. It looked like a city from the distance lit up in the dead of night, one she could point to from her car window and know she was headed somewhere, she was moving... there was something waiting for her...

Footsteps.

Her heart leapt and sank in the same moment. While hope seized her she beat it back with a moan. She wouldn't let herself be so hurt again, not in one night. If Jet were truly coming...

That would change everything. It would, it would... He did care about her, he did. And here he was now, meeting her like he said he would...

At first, she didn't give the figure at her right any kind of glance. From her peripheral vision, she watched it approach the corner beside hers. It's outline was also stippled in shattering rain, it's shoulders farther hunched than hers... but that was probably because of the cold.

Listening became painful. She threw every charade of nonchalance she could muster, biting back a smile, stomping on her feet to keep her from lunging into his arms...

_It's not him. It's not Jet. You should know that very well by now._

_ What if it is?_

It was her downfall waiting to happen. The 'what-if', that little, so lethal phrase that always cut her legs out from under her, pulled her into a turn. 

"Jet?"

Her own voice betrayed her. She sounded on the brink of tears.

She felt so much worse, so it didn't matter much.

Through the misty rain and darkness, she studied long, spread legs bent in mid step, a concealed posture, arched and almost protective.

It wasn't Jet. He never walked so humbly.

Her world shattered, but she didn't let tears squeeze free: that was the last thing she would let happen. Crying wouldn't help anyone, wouldn't do anything...

The rain was such a convenient disguise as they trickled down her face.

The figure remained standing there, watching her.

"I'm sorry," she told him, "I thought you were some..."

What was the use? She was already out of her mind: if anything, she should at least give the whole world the privilege to laugh at her instead of trying to hide it and only make herself look worse.

"...one else."

She sniffed and it triggered a stumble. The disappointment was even slaughtering her physical strength. 

The figure's head was propped, and then lowered. She had thought for a moment that he hadn't heard her. 

He moved closer, just a few more steps off the curb and into the street that separated them, and she saw him in the light.

The sweater he wore was far inadequate for blocking out the rain, but then, so was hers, now that she thought of it. He hadn't bothered to put his hood up: dark hair pressed like oil paint along the sides of his head and his face. They weren't scattered or raked by a previous pair of fingers. He'd left the bangs there on the bridge of his nose, plastered up in the crevices of his face.

It was a slender, fair face, one she couldn't compare to any other even if she'd seen every set of features in the universe. Elegant in it's secrecy, childlike in it's regard... a full grown man full of wisdom, an infant dependent on any pair of hands that turned to it. While strangers were ordinary, this one was anything but, summoned from a thought or question. 

Hands in his sweater pockets, eyes impervious to and unwrinkled by the downpour, he met her gaze.

Her lips moved to apologize again, but no sound was made. He blinked slowly. She didn't think so much... so much _something_ could be contained in just two eyes... one of which, she realized, was surrounded in something dark that seemed to trace a diamond from his brow to his cheekbone...

But the rain was probably distorting her vision.

She expected him to look away and move on, but he didn't. 

And as they stood there staring at eachother, it was as if he had clipped the string inside her chest that was holding her heart in place.

Suddenly everything just fell. Everything. The disappointment, the hurt, the denial, all of it just collapsed on top of her. There were no more limits: they'd all been reached. There was no more room for going home and crying it off: there were no more tears left.

In that moment she felt more hopeless than she ever thought possible or even acceptable. She wanted nothing more than to slap herself and tell her to live, to get over it all...

Her arms wouldn't even move. There was nothing left of her, only a wax figure with her name and her face.

It didn't matter where Jet was. He had never been close to her, even from the day they met, it had all been just his little game.

Something in the boy's eyes waited a moment longer. But then he looked away, unsure as he did so, and silently began to move past her.

She caught his scent as he passed, maximized by all the water cladding his skin and clothing. It was just as different as his face: nothing she would have expected. There was nothing extraordinary about it, yet it couldn't be from the same world she was.

"Wait."

She didn't know why she said it or what gave her the strength to do so, but the boy obeyed all the same. She heard the scrape of his shoes on cement stop, and his shadow on the street turned to face her back.

Some unknown force willed her muscles to move: she spun to face him, features twisted in desperation. He didn't so much as blink, only continued wearing that incredible expression of immersion, solicitude.

"Wait, please," she breathed. As hopeless as she was, every last particle of hope willed her to compromise.

_If I can't have Jet... if I can't have myself... I can pretend. Just let me pretend for a while longer. It's better than being nothing at all._

"Please..." she said again, feeling the tears brim a second time. "Will you... will you please walk with me? Just for a minute."

She waited for the embarrassment and self-consciousness to start in her stomach but it never did. She was so empty it was as if nothing could move her now.

_Well... that could be a good thing, couldn't it?_

_It's all right if he thinks I'm crazy. At least I can't be hurt anymore._

"I know it sounds..." There was no strength to finish a pardon. She could only speak her heart; whatever was left of it, anyway.

"I need you to walk with me," she whispered. "Please."

It was the last she was willing to give. If he refused her, it was only what she expected. He would be right to turn away from her now and go publish it to the whole city that she was a deranged, broken victim to be shunned and shamed. 

But he simply cocked his head and turned his full front to her. 

Amazed, she realized he were offering to her the choice of street.

Her lips trembled to life.

"Th... this way." She gestured feebly the street to their left.

He inclined his head in a nod and turned his body to face their path while his eyes remained on her. She fell into those eyes, leaning on them for a crutch. They were the only real things in her world, the only dependable shelter.

"Will... will you take my hand?" she asked, feeling her throat slowly open to let in air to her sleeping lungs.

As the last sound left her mouth, she felt his sleek, wet fingers slide in between hers. And while the night was so cold, his hand so warm. His gentle grasp held hers securely, cradled it between them.

Her foot moved forward, and his followed. She walked from the curb into the pouring rain, and he was there beside her.

Cars and lights were the accessories, the little things that only made the foundation of the world. Passing people, smells, music... they were things she would notice had anyone else been holding her hand, had any other pair of eyes been studying hers for the last hour.

All the length of their walk he had not said a word. The rain had crashed on, harder and harder as if trying to voice sound from his lips but for some reason it never came. 

She decided she would not want him to talk, not now. Now he was simply whatever he appeared to be. He was a silent rescuer who wasn't capable of a lie, and as soon as he opened his mouth, every disappointing possibility would instantly exist. She wanted none of those possibilities. They were everything that defined Jet, everything she'd feared and had been torn down by. Just the thought of this boy being another Jet started dread so awful in her stomach that she winced and felt the tears start again.

And it was at those moments when his fingers would tighten around hers, when he'd suddenly be just a few inches closer. Their soaked shoulders would brush and in the darkness she would find light. In the cold she'd find warmth. It would shudder it's way through her, a reassurance that she'd almost forgotten the feel of.

"Thank you," she'd murmur, and he would only bring their joined hands up to chest-level, his thumb tracing comforting circles on her skin.

Somewhere amidst all their aimless walking, she gently pulled him off to the side of the walkway where they could stand beneath the tarp of a shop and receive shelter for a moment. Behind her was the open door of a coffee shop. The smells that wafted out might have enticed her but now they only made her remember the world. Her spirits sank so low she might have to get down on her knees and collect them back up again.

But they hit the soft cup of the boy's hand before they could hit the pavement.

His caressing began to slow on the back of her hand and she gazed up into his face. He returned her stare almost obediently.

His eyes were so deep. She couldn't imagine a voice to match: she couldn't imagine _anything_ but his eyes. He could only have traveled his entire life in silence, making his way through success and encounters with mere glances. They, the people, would understand. It would be just like he were talking. Who couldn't find words and feelings and everything else in those gentle, hazel worlds?

With his silence and his loyalty there came confidence, a small flicker of it, whereas before she had been lead by his hand like a child in blindness. Now her strength was returning, her desires were flourishing.

The hole in her chest ached again, reminding her of another loss.

"Will you hold me?" she asked. As her mind awoke, so did her fear of humiliation and discomfort, and not for the first time she dreaded she had gone too far...

His chin moved above her and something strong and warm bid her into his chest. She felt his arms encircle her shoulders, a stone fortress erected in a matter of seconds about her frailness. Never in any moment with Jet had she felt such warmth, such safety. Any embrace they'd exchanged was now laughable: it would hardly pass for a touch. There never had been the word _safety_ until that instant when she could close her eyes against the boy's heartbeat, syncopate her breathing to his, drift farther and farther into the stuff of him that couldn't be seen.

He sighed and she caught a hint of his voice: his breath was hoarse and gentle, the kind of unique his eyes were. Despite her wish for him to remain silent, her curiosity lead her to seeking voices she'd heard in the past that may fit that sigh...

But there were none. She wasn't a cinch surprised. It only made him all the more frightening, all the more wonderful. All the more questionable.

_Are you another Jet?_ she almost thought to ask him. But how could she, after he had done all this for her? 

Thinking required too much of what she feared, what she was losing, so she shut it down completely and focused on his embrace.

Time escaped them without a trace. The rain managed to keep a grip on the edges of their consciousness, but the cold and the wet and the fact they were far from their homes had been washed away long ago.

Streets they followed were close to empty and she felt out of place. The city was closing down while her heart was just barely rebooting. Finally she let the world fall asleep around her: as long as he stayed, it seemed she could walk like this straight into the horizon, off the edge of the world and into the stars she kept seeing when she looked in his eyes. 

It never occurred to her that he may be tired or uncomfortable in such rainy conditions. She had realized long ago that he wasn't. Without asking, she'd gotten his confirmation that he was here for her as long as she needed him. The thought brought tears to her eyes at the rare occasions when she fully understood it, and routinely she would feel his fingers tighten, feel their proximity deepen.

On either side of their figures passed walls and shops. A few out of many were still open, warm lights glowing from windows and muffled music mixed with chortles leaking through the closed doors. Life and the bustling world was slowly becoming less and less frightening. Sense was taking the place of desperation. From her fingertips that were nestled against his knuckles began to emit a new strength she hadn't felt in such a long time. It began to grow and course through her, a figure skater making winding paths but still moving forward. Still making progress.

It was at another deserted intersection where she stopped him. The street lamp sat across the road just like before, the same gold glimmer revealing a curb and twenty square yards of asphalt. It glittered the same way as before. She felt they had completed a long and laborious mission: here they were at the culmination.

She didn't want it to end.

The rain raged harder than ever but she could hardly feel it as she turned to face the boy. He followed suit... and the street lamp light fell on the side of his face.

The dark diamond she'd identified had not been her imagination: crinkled, pink skin baked and dead made up a large burn scar around his left eye. It receded back to cover his ear, too. A lump formed in her throat: whether chemical or fire, she could feel the pain it had caused emitting from the missing eyelashes...

But somehow the scar brought her healing. Seeing an imperfection among all his perfection seemed to complete him. It made him more real than before. As sorry and devastated as she was for his wound, she was also grateful. Grateful that the one to save her would have an emptiness for her to save, too. 

She closed her parted lips and returned to his gaze. Between them passed every spoken word that would be appropriate for such a discovery, but it meant so much more in silence. She was satisfied and relieved: he cradled both her hands in his as if to tell her they were both going to be all right.

One last memory streaked across her eyes, and he saw it. It seemed he knew what she would ask before she did it.

"Kiss me," she whispered. "Will you, please?"

His lashes met and then opened to reveal freshly tender eyes. Thunder rang off in the distance as his hands slowly moved to support her waist.

And he leaned in closer than he had the entire night, taking her lips in his.

Her own hands slid free of eachother and found his neck, while the entire planet seemed to ignite. There was beauty in the darkness of her closed eyes that she'd never seen, stunning music in the hissing rain she could not have found had he not kissed her then. His lips were foreign and slick with water, but it was only for the better. The hole inside her that was filled could not have sang louder, her heart could not have rested into a deeper relief.

The centuries passed on. She could only feel his hair and then, when combing it over and over had ceased, his neck, around which she wrapped the full length of her arms and clung with all her might. She welcomed the rain now in eagerness, feeling it crash onto her angled cheek, sliding into her neck and collecting in her shirt. She loosed one hand and with it followed the same paths of water on the boy's face. As she kissed him, she traced the droplets while they ran off his chin, brushing them lightly off his eyelashes, creasing them into his jawline.

She could not imagine leaving his side. Not when she realized now that she loved this stranger more than she could hope to voice.

His lips began to slow, the caress slowly fading. For once, she was following his movements. 

They tenderly parted, and he opened his eyes against her forehead only to stare directly into hers. The thunder grumbled again at the edges of the black sky, and for all she knew, it was celebrating.

Happiness became her. She smiled. 

"I'm Katara."

He smiled too. "Zuko."


End file.
